Theft
by allthingsdarkx
Summary: Jane and her brother, Roman, have been living off of pick pocketing for as long as they both could remember. When offered the deal of a lifetime to rob the most influential man of their time, Kurt Weller. Does Jane take up the offer as an insider and gain more than she bargained for or does everything take a turn for the worst?
1. Chapter 1

Thank you to all of the people that enjoy the stories regardless of the storyline. I like writing even though I'm not very good at it and I will continue writing my stories the way I'd like.

I hope you enjoy this AU. x

* * *

"I miss our old house." Sighing, Jane nestled her head against Roman's shoulder.

We were a team, Roman and I. He was king of distractions and diversions, I was the light fingered little sister.

Our act was a thing of beauty, choreographed, timed, perfected. No one could beat us.

"I do too, J." He replies throwing an arm over my shoulder. Roman was the kind of guy that didn't care much about anything. He cared little about where we slept, what we ate, his ex girlfriends but the one thing I was extremely certain about was his love for me. He'd try to act all tough but he doesn't fool me. He wishes I hadn't been dragged into the life we now had and he missed no chance to tell me how he wished I was settled down somewhere with a few kids. Honestly, the mere thought of children scare me more than anything I've ever encountered.

Michael, the leader is resting against the wooden pillar with a face of utter nonchalance, as if he were merely waiting for a bus on a spring day, apple in hand. He isn't slumped at all, his body is clearly too muscular for that, yet it is just as relaxed as his face. He's almost smiling—smiling as if something good were about to happen. The world falls through my feet. Good for him is likely bad for me. Very bad.

Being the only woman in the group, it was expected of me to bring in what Michael called the 'big men'.

"Just use your little charms, bat your eyes or whatever," he'd say waving his hand around in annoyance.

Roman wouldn't have any of it.

"Just get a random hooker or someone to do your dirty work. You're not using my sister as a whore."

They'd go back and forth for awhile until I finally tell them that it's okay and I don't mind it.

The man has the swagger of someone I don't even want to lock eyes with, let alone cross. His arms are more ink than skin and his blonde hair so tousled as if he'd just rolled out of bed.

Night rolls around and after a time, sleep comes heavy to my lids. I feel the shuttering of my synapses, the quiet lure into sleepiness. As each limb becomes heavy and my heart slows to a more peaceful beat, the comfort of bed calls.

"C'mon, bedtime" Roman says wearily, nudging me off of his shoulders. I get up wobbly on my feet but I manage.

The room we rented was pretty rundown and the paint chipped badly but it was home and it had been for quite sometime.

We left our childhood home when I was six and Roman had been fourteen. Our childhood was shit and we got out. Not much to it.

Our father had been a soldier almost his entire life. He joined originally to prove to his father that he was nothing like he was—he wasn't a drunk and he'd never lay a hand on his wife, the way his father did his mother.

We were happy. Roman was the usual rebellious kid; getting into trouble and completely ignoring his little sister. I was more of a daddy's girl. When my father had to leave for all of those months I'd sit by the window and cry for hours. No one could get me to move — my mother had been worried for awhile. She even took me to a bunch of kid shrinks.. _Fun!_

They all assured her that I was alright and that was just my way of dealing with my father's departure.

Every month my father would write us all separate letters. When that one letter didn't come I immediately knew something was wrong. My mother was either oblivious to the whole thing or was every optimistic.

"Maybe he didn't have the time," she would say everyday but I knew and I was certain Roman had known too.

After two months had passed, my mother finally received the fatal news.

When he saw the brains of his best friend blown out in the trench next to him he had dropped his rifle and run. He had run from the battlefield in blind terror and panic, and ran straight into a hidden bomb. He died instantly.

My mother didn't take that news very well. She'd drink herself into oblivion everyday. She paid little to no mind to my brother and I — Roman had basically taken over the role of a parent. He'd make sure I ate while our mother was out partying with the local strippers young enough to be her daughters. He'd get me already for school and helped out with my homework. We hadn't been close when I was younger but his bravery and persistence to take care of me made me love my brother more than I thought possible.

* * *

When I finally sleep I wake after only a couple of fitful hours and wake as if a whole night had passed, but it hasn't. I wish I could be one of those people who roll over and doze off but I can't. I can either lie in my bed watching the colour slowly seep back into the walls, waiting for the dawn chorus, or I can get up. Sometimes I get dressed and go downtown to a late night club or bar. If I'm going to die early from never sleeping enough I figure I should make the most of my time.

A slight tap on the door makes me spring up to my feet, grabbing the gun I kept under my pillow for safety. The tap grew louder and persistent.

 _Does no one else hear that?_ I thought silently

 _tap, tap, tap_

Slowly I make my way over to the door. The tap stops abruptly and for a second I thought I was imagining things until I heard it again—louder this time.

Holding firmly onto my gun, I take a peek through the peephole but I saw no one. I was definitely hearing things. My insomnia caused me to hallucinate. _Great!_

Then the tapping starts again; too loud and persistent to just be my imagination. Without giving much thought to the fact that whomever is on the other side on the door will most likely shoot me in the face, I yanked the door open in annoyance keeping my gun steady.

 _There was no one there. I'm crazy_

Shaking my head I made my way back to my room and slumped down on the bed. I yanked the covers over my slim body and squeezed my eyes tightly. _Sleep, I command thee!_

After a few minutes —hours of rolling around, I finally settled into a dreamless sleep. That lasted for what seemed like a few seconds before my alarm clock blasted nearly knocking me off my bed in the process.

 _Shit!_

"Up and about, sunshine" Michael yelled banging on my door.

One of these days I was going to shoot him square in the face.

As soon as my barefoot crosses the threshold I know they're having a fry up by the smell of the bacon. If Michael is doing the cooking it will be perfectly crisp as good Canadian bacon should be, I can already taste it layered generously between two slices of a white bloomer from the bakers. But when I round the corner the smile is wiped from my face. They are not alone. Two strange girls sit around the breakfast table dressed up like they're all set to go clubbing, only they have no makeup on they look like the smallest sounds would make their heads explode. I could run and hide but no, this is my home. So I put the smile back on my face and greet them all, very loudly.

"Jesus," one of the girls winced. "Could you not be so loud?"

A frustrated sigh left my lips earning me a hard glare from Roman. I shrugged and helped myself to some bacon and eggs.

"Busy day today, so if you two are done sucking faces we need to move," I muffled through a mouthful of breakfast.

Michael apologized to the girls and led them through the front door. He offered to pay for them to get home safety but they declined.

 _Atleast they have_ _ **some**_ _decency_.

After washing up the dishes, Michael chucked a stack of papers towards me.

"Study this"

Roman peered over my shoulder and read along with me

"You're crazy," I said shaking head

"Kurt Weller is the **most** influential man right now. We'll get caught before I even get to see what he looks like" I grimaced, throwing the pile of papers back at him.

"Think about all the money, angel" he said rubbing this forefinger and thumb fingers dramatically.

"Think about all the jail time, too" Roman interrupted. My brother might've been an ass but he'd never let me risk my life for anything—not while he was alive atleast.

"Fine. You're either in or you're out. If you're out, princess pack up and leave."

* * *

"Mr. Weller?," Tasha, my secretary spoke quietly into the phone.

"There's a— she paused for a second as if reading from a script of some kind— Jane Fitzgerald, here to see you. She doesn't have an appointment, sir" she continued gently.

 _No rest for the wicked_ , he said inwardly.

"Let her in and you can leave now. Thanks Tasha" I hung up and loosen my dark tie with a simple tug.

It had been a long and all I needed was a cold shower and some beauty to warm my bed.

A firm rap jolted him out of his deep thoughts.

"Come —" he started before the woman just marched right in like she owned the place.

 _My kind of lady_.

Kurt let his eyes roll up to the woman that had entered. Her heels clacked like they were damaging his walnut floor and he wanted to tell her to take them off. Her long dark hair was swept into a bundle on the top of her head and her makeup was well applied.

she wore a dark suit, but that isn't what grabbed his attention.

It was the nonchalant expressive she wore and the way her lips were pressed so tightly together as if she'd rather be anywhere but in his presence.

"Jane Fitzgerald," she said outstretching her hand to meet his.

Instead he extended his hand open palmed and invited her to sit. She stopped with no intention of letting him call the shots and proceeded with the formalities and her first question.

"I hear you're looking for a personal assistant," her hazel eyes gleamed and a small smile crept its way onto her face.

 _She's so beautiful when she smiles_.

Clearing my throat, I sat upright and mirrored her unexcited expression.

"I am"

"Good. When can I start?"

I threw my head back and roared with laughter.

"Confident little thing, aren't ya" he say reaching across the table for her credentials.

"While I appreciate your confidence I have to interview as I would everyone," he added with a slight smile on his face.

She nodded and he proceeded.

Before each question she paused, head tilted to one side just a smidge, and then she delivered an articulate answer.

"You seem qualified enough but I still have to make a few calls."

He added seeing the uneasy look on her face, "as a precaution, I have to ensure you aren't just another pretty face after my money"

A little chuckle escaped her lips.

He stood up and outstretch his hand. She returned the gesture and shook his hand with the gentlest squeeze.

"I'll call you.. I mean I'll call your people and have them call you," he said confidentially.

"Lovely meeting you, Mr. Weller"

After she left Kurt threw his jacket off and rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows.

His phone flashed besides him notifying him of a call. His on and off sex buddy's face flashed across the screen.

"Hey"

"Are you done?" She asked seductively

"Yep. I'm on my way out" he replied, picking up the necessary files he'd need and headed out.


	2. Chapter 2

The world was a beautiful place, once, in my imagination. As a young child I always dreamed of what it would be like to grow up, become independent, move away to an island of pure paradise. Where the sun sat half-exposed at the horizon, showing off its tinted citrus hues on the calm surface of the underworld, where I could stand with the water curling around my toes, as I looked out to the silhouettes of palm trees on the neighbouring island, and where I could watch the golden butter-coloured sun slide dramatically behind the skyline, leaving the bold white moon to shine silver beams on the rippling facade. That all came to a sudden halt the day my father died. Sometimes in my quiet moments I blame my grandfather for my father's death as silly as it is. If he hadn't abused his wife — a woman he'd sworn to love until their last days — my dad wouldn't have felt the need to prove himself to someone that didn't care what happened to him and his siblings. It's a stupid... but only if.

"Hey kid," Roman said plopping down next to me. He watches the sea, lost in the rhythmic percussion of waves on sand. His eyes are steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckons the stars. His lips bear the semblance of a smile, just enough to show that he is enjoying his thoughts, whatever they may be.

"We need to head back in a few," he says again keeping his eyes ahead.

I shifted closer to him and lay my head on his shoulders allowing myself to just enjoy the quiet moments spent with my brother.

"I have a bad feeling about this," I whisper after sometime. Michael had it all planned out.

I was given 6months to get close enough to Kurt Weller — I could get that done in 2 months, to be honest. I've been doing this long enough to know exactly what to do and what not to do. Kurt Weller seemed easy enough; a handsome eligible bachelor with a different woman in his bed every night because he has commitment issues — mommy probably didn't love him enough or his daddy was a drunk that beat the shit out of him for no apparent reason. It was always the same yet it seemed like so much more where Kurt was concerned.

"So do I," Roman admitted quietly; barely even audible but I heard him. His voice shook the way it did when our father's death had been confirmed. He'd try to comfort me—tried to be there for me but I knew he was hurting. He'd reread dad's letters to him every night in our parent's room where our mother should've been but she'd taken dad's death pretty hard and was hardly ever at home. He'd wear dad's favourite jacket while he sat before the fire and wept for hours. He tried to act like such a tough kid but in reality he wasn't. He was just as afraid as I was—just as hurt, as I was.

"I tried to be the big brother you needed. I'm so sorry if I failed you"

"I love you, bro, I always will. You did what you had to do, no more."

* * *

When I arrived at work there is already a coffee on my desk. One sniff tells me it's my favourite — hazelnut latte.

I sink into my chair and peer around. Hardly anyone is here yet no one, one even looks my way or acknowledges me at all. I turn my attention back to the cup. It's a venti, tall, frothy and still hot. The milky sip creeps over my tastes buds and down my throat. After only a few minutes I am bathing in the kick of the caffeine.

"You're very early," my bestfriend and business partner, Edgar Reade, says the doorway holding a cup of what I assume to be coffee.

"Yeah, I needed to sort some stuff out," I say glancing at him briefly before returning my attention to the many files on my desk.

"You need an assistant, old bean," Reade says walking over and sitting in the seat before me. Reade and I had known each other almost our whole lives. We first met in Elementary school when I saved him from being bullied in the hallways and we had been joined at the hip since then. In College being the 'unpopular kids' as the others had so callously put it we stayed indoors and worked on a plan for our business. Of course, we were kidding around at that time and hadn't really expected much of it.

We started off as interns for every business we could find during that time. The work could be dull, monotonous even, but the result was all the motivation I needed. It's tough starting out, taking a chance, but in time my reputation brought in all the business I needed.

"I have one but I haven't called her yet to let her know she's got the job."

"So you prefer to sit here and struggle ?" Reade snickers crossing his feet as his ankles.

I told him everything about this God sent woman who appeared out of nowhere.

"So you see I haven't called her yet in hopes to dim her light. She's way too cocky and she knows it," I explained sorting through my thousands of email.

" _So.._ basically you don't want to hire her because she's _you_?" Reade asked raising an eyebrow.

"Shes not me, Reade. She's cocky, arrogant —"

"But is she beautiful though?" Reade interrupts smirking behind his cup of the beautiful hot beverage.

"So beautiful"

Reade bit the edge of a smile, a vain attempt to keep his creeping grin at bay.

"Hire her," he said before getting up and walking towards the door. He stopped in the doorway downing his last set of coffee before turning back to face me, "this should be fun."

Mischief is in the eye of the beholder. It certainly is for Reade. I know what he's going to do before he does, it's all there in his eyes. The boy has a busy brain, all those ideas for "rocking the boat" and so few opportunities to get away with it. Most of the time he's a coiled spring of frustration, then something changes, the odds move in his favour and the sparkle begins.

I knew I had to call her eventually. It's been two days since our interview. She had everything I needed in an assistant but there was only one problem; the babysitter left unexpectedly — some family matter that couldn't wait so now I needed a babysitter for Jacob. I tried to spend as much time as possible with my son so he wouldn't feel like his father adored his work more than he did him. He's two so he won't be worrying about that right now but he won't stay that sweet little two year old forever. That's the whole reason for this assistant really. She'd help take some of the load so I can better father my kid.

 _Reade was right though. God, when did I ever agree to something Reade said? This isn't going to end well._

I hesitantly punched in Jane's contact number and waited. I was about to hang up when a groggily voice picked up.

"Lo?" I made a quick glance at my clock and noticed it said 9:00am

 _How was she supposed to come work for me if she couldn't even rise early? This was obviously a mistake._

"Mr. Weller." She says again, sounding less sleepy and more alert.

She caught me so off guard that the files I was reading through fell right off of the table and made a _clunk_ sound when it finally reached the cool surface.

 _I could only imagine her smirk right now_.

"Or should I say, Mr. Butterfingers," she says again.

"Good morning... Good morning Miss Fitzgerald," I tried again clearing my throat and trying to sound atleast a little bit more professional.

"Did you need something?" She asked innocently. She was so smug it was annoying but I needed all the help I could get.

"Yes. I need you _—_ "

"That's very inappropriate. Don't you have the ' **no dating employees'** policy" she interrupted

I couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped my mouth.

"I do. You're hired but you already knew that."

"When do you want me to start?"

"How is right now?"

"See you soon, Mr. Weller."


End file.
